


A Study in Flirting

by GubraithianFire



Series: Tumblr Commissions [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Chainsmoking, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, John "Three Continents" Watson, Librarian!Sherlock, Love at First Sight, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Smut, Top John Watson, Unilock, in future chapters, john is literally a piece of garbage, john smokes weed after sex eheh, sherlock wears glasses, trash!John, veryyy bad pick-up lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GubraithianFire/pseuds/GubraithianFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is the new librarian at the university library. </p><p>John is bad with pick-up lines.</p><p> </p><p>Commission fic for Anna  @<a href="http://daddy-freeman.tumblr.com/">daddy-freeman</a>. Thank you for trusting me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The new librarian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daddy_freeman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddy_freeman/gifts).



> Anna asked for Librarian!Sherlock, lots of flirting and eventual smut ;) 
> 
> Here it is! 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

The old librarian shushed them again, making John and his mates snicker.

“Oh, Watson, you’re a dipstick,” Mike wheezed, and John huffed a small laugh.

“We’re supposed to fucking study,” Bill Murray said in between fits of giggles, as Molly tried to quieten them all, even though she too was laughing.

John smiled at his uni mates, incredibly chuffed he could make them all laugh like that.

“Shit,” Molly suddenly said, turning bright pink, “That’s- that’s the cute new librarian. I made a fool of myself last time I met him. Goddammit, he’s gorgeous.”

John and the others made a move to turn around, but Molly hissed, “You dumbass, don’t you all turn and stare! God, don’t be obvious.”

“Is he that pretty?” John whispered, and both Mike and Bill sneakily turned their heads around.

Mike let out a slow whistle. “Just your type, John,” he murmured.

“Yeah, tall, curly and handsome,” Bill supplied.

John was _dying_ to see this dude. Ever so slowly, he leaned on his right and peeked at the librarian.

His jaw dropped.

The stranger was _beautiful_. He had curly, dark brown hair and chiselled features. His mouth looked sculpted and he was tall and fit and just bloody _hot_. His large pair of glasses just added to the charm.

He also looked kinda bored, scanning book after book and putting them away.

“You’re eating him with your eyes,” Molly said, rolling her eyes.

“Shut up, I’m not,” John grumbled, elbowing his friend.

“He’s out of your league anyway,” Bill chirped.

John’s eyes snapped up. “What do you mean?” He growled.

“Mate, look at ‘im! The guy looks so aloof and unapproachable! Also, I bet people hit on him on a daily basis,” Mike continued.

“Five quid from each of you if I get his number,” John smirked.

All three of his friends laughed quietly, gaining another “shush!” by the old librarian.

“And you’ll have to offer us a free pint each if he doesn’t give you shit,” Bill extended his hand, and John grabbed it.

“I’m on it,” he smiled, and walked confidently to the young, beautiful librarian.

He leaned with his elbows on the desk where the guy was sat, and waited to have his attention.

“Yeah?” The stranger asked, his tone oozing with boredom, without turning to look at John.

John wore his most charming grin, and went for it.

“Hey, did it hurt?”

The librarian furrowed his brow, then turned to look at him. God, his fucking _eyes_. John couldn’t catalogue their colour even if he tried.

They were aquamarine, or verdigris, or a mix of both, and they were _magnetic_.

“What?” The stranger asked, and John couldn’t _believe_ the man didn’t know this line.

“When you fell from heaven,” John winked at him, and the man blushed beet red.

He wrinkled his nose. “That was a bit cheesy.”

John lifted his hands. “Sorry I know, I just came over to ask if you could touch my hand.”

The man looked baffled.

“Why?”

“Because I want to tell my friends over there,” and John pointed at his study group, “That I’ve been touched by an angel.”

The librarian snorted a laugh, and went even redder. He scratched at the back of his neck.

“I don’t even know how to reply to this.”

John grinned. “You can tell me your name.”

“Sherlock,” the boy immediately replied, then shut his mouth as if embarrassed by how quickly he had answered.

He was adorable. John wanted nothing more than to debauch him.

He leaned with his head on his hands, his elbows propped on the desk, and stared at Sherlock right in the eye as he said, “I’m John. John Watson.”

Sherlock looked petrified, as though he didn’t know what to do.

“Shit,” John suddenly said, looking down. “You dropped something.”

He bent and pretended to pick something from the ground, to then pass Sherlock his number, scribbled on a piece of paper he kept in his pocket at all times.

Sherlock laughed, a full belly laugh that filled the silent library.

“Maybe send me a text?” John proposed, then tapped with his knuckles on the wooden desk and walked away.

“I got him,” John whispered to his friends.

“Where’s the number then hmm,” Molly teased, jabbing her long nails into the soft flesh of his arm.

“Ouch,” John exclaimed, just as Bill hit him round the head, saying, “He didn’t give you no number, right?”

Right on cue, John’s phone buzzed.

 

(Thursday, 05:17pm)

_Tell your friends you don’t have to pay for their pints. –SH_

John grinned down at his phone, then held it up victoriously.

“Ow that’s not fair,” Mike complained, slamming a fiver on the table.

“You always get the cute ones,” Molly moaned, throwing the five quid on the table.

Bill didn’t comment, as he fished in his pocket for the banknote and put it on the table without a word.

“I’m speechless,” he just said.

John smiled, and pocketed his phone and the money.

 

\---

 

(Thursday, 06:10pm)

How did you know about the pints? 

 

(Thursday, 06:13pm)

_Don’t insult my intelligence. It was obvious._

(Thursday, 06:14pm)

Riiight. Sorry, I’m doing a very complicated thing atm. 

 

(Thursday, 06:16pm)

_I’m afraid to ask. What?_

(Thursday, 06:17pm)

I’m rearranging the alphabet so that u and I can be together ;)

 

(Thursday, 06:18pm)

_Get out of my face oh my God._

 

(Thursday, 06:21pm)

I know you’re enjoying this.

 

(Thursday, 06:26pm)

_Immensely._

 

(Thursday, 06:27pm)

_That was sarcastic._

(Thursday, 06:28pm)

Do you have a shift at the library tomorrow? 

 

(Thursday, 06:30pm)

_Yes._

(Thursday, 06:32pm)

Do you believe in love at first sight?

 

(Thursday, 06:38pm)

_No, why?_

(Thursday, 06:40pm)

Because then tomorrow I will have to pass by your desk again ;)

 

(Thursday, 06:41pm)

_Just… Shut up, John._

 

(Thursday, 06:43pm)

Ik you’re smiling :)

(Thursday, 06:47pm)

_Am not._

Sherlock was, indeed, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @[caspu](http://caspu.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff, awful pick-up lines and more fluff! 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

John walked into the library with a racing heart and a sunny grin on his face. Sherlock would get off work in a few minutes, and they had settled on going to dinner together somewhere.

He sat at a table and stared as Sherlock scanned book after book, all with his bored expression. He could feel butterflies at the pit of his stomach, which was stupid. But Sherlock was kinda different from all the other people John had been with.

Sherlock felt… Precious, important, valuable. John knew that if he cocked this up he would regret it his whole life.

He watched as Sherlock scanned the last book on his pile and gathered his things. Only then John got up and walked towards him.

“Hey,” Sherlock said, smiling shyly at him, an endearing blush creeping up the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” John replied. Then he fished his library card out of his pocket and showed it to Sherlock with a cheeky grin.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow, then sighed, but there was a smile playing at his lips.

“Go on, say your cheesy line.”

John beamed at him, “Well, I just thought it handy I have my library card with me, because I’m totally checking you out. In every sense.”

Sherlock, despite blushing a beet red, erupted in a booming laughter.

John smirked victoriously.

“Shall we go, then?” John asked, offering Sherlock his arm.

Sherlock hesitated, but then he linked his arm with John and let him guide him out of the uni library.

“Have you got any good place where you’d like to eat?” John questioned, grinning up at his companion.

Sherlock tilted his head in thought. He was adorable.

“Did you know you can recognize a good Chinese restaurant by its doorknob?”

John giggled. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m totally serious,” Sherlock said. “I’ll prove it.”

Half an hour later and John was eating the best Chinese of his life. He also discovered a new trait about Sherlock; his _deductions_.

That’s how Sherlock called it, anyway, his ability to see through everything and everyone in seconds.

It was hilarious. The way he pointed at a girl and tells him all about her life, the way he made the waiter blush and stutter when he told him to go wash his hands.

“You’re amazing,” John said, more than a bit besotted, making Sherlock blush furiously, for about the fourth time that night.

John discovered he loved making Sherlock blush.

The guy was always so poised and formal, that seeing him embarrassed and flustered was an incredible delight.

“Don’t you think my deductions are… rude?”

John shook his head, chuckling softly. “God, yes, they are. Still amazing, though.”

Sherlock smiled shyly, and looked down into his plate. He had barely eaten a bite.

“You should eat more,” John commented, pointing at Sherlock’s food with his chin.

Sherlock shrugged. “Slows me down.”

“What do you mean?”

Sherlock sighed. “My mind is like… my hard drive. My body is just… transport, yeah. And eating slows my thought process down.”

John laughed. “That’s the biggest amount of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Sherlock looked affronted.

“I mean, I study bloody Medicine and trust me, eating can only help you think.”

Sherlock tilted his head endearingly.

“You’re a weird one, John.”

“Yeah, I’m the one who says eating slows me down.”

“No, I mean,” Sherlock struggled with the words, “You… I tell you all this stuff about me that would have everyone say ‘Nice to meet you, bye’, and you just… Laugh and shrug it off?”

John lifted on shoulder. “You’re not as weird as you think you are. I, for one, think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Sherlock looked flabbergasted.

“What?” John asked, mouth filled with his soybean spaghetti.

“Nothing I… You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met, too.”

John grinned at him, and Sherlock hid his blushing face in his food.

\---

John got home with the widest, most foolish smile on his face.

“Alright, Watson?” Mike, roommate extraordinaire, asked him.

“More than alright. I think I’m in loooveee,” he sang, and took Mike by his hands to spin them around.

“Let me go, John,” Mike laughed, and John complied, sinking with a happy sigh on their ratty couch.

Their flat was nothing special; just a small kitchen, a microscopic living room, a bathroom and two bedrooms.

“Are you talking about ‘library boy’?” Mike checked, and went to the kitchen to fix them a cuppa.

“God, yes,” John breathed.

“He’s amazing, Mike! He makes these crazy-ass deductions, right, where he looks at a person and immediately knows everything about them, it’s brilliant! And his eyes, _oh_.”

John sighed dreamily, and leaned with the back of his head against the couch.

“You met him yesterday! You can’t be in love already!” Yelled Mike, amused by his friend’s dreamy expression.

John scowled. “I won’t let societal norms tell me who and when I can love!” He vowed jokingly.

Mike snickered, “Fucking Watson.”

John beamed at him, and fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Gonna make a phone call, don’t bother me!” He called over his shoulder as he got up and walked out of the room.

Sherlock picked up after only two rings.

“Hey gorgeous,” John greeted him, and could almost _feel_ Sherlock’s cheeks flush.

“Shut up,” Sherlock replied, but John heard the smile in his tone.

“I missed your voice,” John said frankly, and Sherlock didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“I missed your voice too,” he admitted, in a low tone, his voice dripping shyness.

“Wait a sec,” John said, putting the loud speaker on, and started divesting himself. When he was only in his boxer briefs, he flopped on the bed, crawling under the covers.

“Okay, we can talk now,” He continued, lowering the phone on the pillow beside his face, and turning on his side.

“What do you wanna talk about, John? We said goodbye just an hour ago,” Sherlock feigned to be annoyed, failing miserably.

“You know with me it doesn’t work, right?”

“What?” Sherlock ground out.

“You being all… miffed and aloof, with your coat and your cheekbones and your annoyed voice. It just doesn’t work on me. I see you as a giant nerd in glasses.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Sherlock?”

“I was considering whether to end the call or not.”

John laughed. “Glad you didn’t.”

“I still could.”

And on and on they went, until John, exhausted, fell asleep with the sound of Sherlock’s voice.


	3. Do you mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Anna who commissioned this fic made an [awesome playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/anna_shawarma/playlist/6HtFp4EuNyetrfKYGuTbUY) on Spotify for this story. Listen to it while you read this chapter, you will recognise a couple of songs! ;) 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

One month. One bloody month and John still had to know what Sherlock’s lips tasted like.

“Not even a chaste peck?” Bill teased, as Molly winked at him.

“You can tell us, Johnny boy.”

John groaned, and hid his face in his folded arms on the coffee shop table.

“I gave him a love bite once, while we were cuddled up watching a movie, and he didn’t say shit, then I lean up to kiss him and he backs away? But he still holds my hand when we walk so I’m like, what the fuck?”

Mike patted his back, trying to be of some reassurance.

“Well, tonight we’re all at his party, right?” Molly said cheerfully. John nodded weakly.

“Parties are great for kisses! Everyone will be making out, you’ll sure get a snog, John,” Bill tried to comfort him, to no success.

“I’m going insane!” He whined to his friends, gaining a slap on the back of his neck.

“Ouch, Molly!” He exclaimed.

“Stop complaining, you’re John Three Campuses Watson, get a grip!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” John said meekly, to avoid being hit again.

“Anyway, I’ve never seen you so bad head over heels for someone,” Bill noted.

“Yeah, you usually go for it and boom, said and done,” Mike finished.

“I know but…” John sighed. “Sherlock is special, okay?”

“Someone is in love,” Molly giggled, and John didn’t deny it. What he had told Mike that first night was still true; he thought he might really be in love with that nerd.

 

\---

 

John arrived early to the party, a bunch of flowers in one hand and the other stuffed in his jeans pocket.

“Hey,” he started, as the door flew open, then froze.

On the first step of the house (giant, majestic, bloody _posh_ ), was a beautiful guy that decidedly was _not_ Sherlock.

His skin was the colour of dark onyx, his eyes shining black stars. His toothy, white grin was so charming that John staggered one step back.

“You must be John,” the stranger said, smiling politely at him.

John cleared his throat.

“I… Yes? Ah, and you are…?”

“Oh, how impolite of me, I’m Victor Trevor,” the guy introduced himself, extending one hand to John.

He was bloody tall and his hands were bloody _enormous_. They shook hands then an embarrassed silence fell between the two.

“So… where’s Sherlock then?” John asked, and the stranger shook his head, as if shaking away his thoughts.

“Inside, please, come in.”

Victor led the way, and they found themselves in a huge living room. The word ‘posh’ came back again to John’s mind.

Sherlock was quietly talking to a dropped dead gorgeous girl, who had his same dark hair and prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were also of an impossible colour.

“John!” Sherlock greeted, smiling widely at him. John smiled back, and offered Sherlock the flowers with a small bow.

Sherlock giggled and, of course, blushed, before accepting the flowers.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and John leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Red as a fucking tomato, Sherlock bubbled, “J-John, meet Victor and Irene, my cousin, I’ll go put these in a vase,” and fled the room.

“He likes you quite a lot,” the girl, Irene, said as soon as Sherlock was out of earshot.

“So harm him and I’ll come find you, got it?”

Cowering under the girl’s murderous glare, John could nothing but nod. She grinned at him.

“Good, isn’t it nice we all agree on something?”

Irene was fucking scary, John decided.

“Are you a relative of Sherlock’s as well?” John asked, turning to Victor, just because staring at Irene’s shark-like smile was giving him the creeps.

“Oh no,” the man laughed, “God, no. I’m his ex.”

John’s jaw dropped. Bloody great.

He was stuck alone in a room with his crush’s ex and killer cousin. Bloody _awesome_. How come he always ended up in shit situations like this?

Someone rang the doorbell, and Victor ran to usher the newcomers in.

John decided to man up and walked closer to Irene.

“Sorry but, are Sherlock and Victor still good friends?”

Irene chuckled lightly. “You needn’t worry, tiny man,” and John was _not_ offended, “Sherlock has eyes only for you now. And Victor has a new boyfriend. They just get along pretty well.”

Partly relieved, partly jealous, John sighed and murmured a silent “thank you,” just as Sherlock came back to the living room.

Then Irene put the music on, and the party began.

 

\---

 

Two hours, and John was relegated in a corner, drinking expensive beer with Molly, Mike and Bill. Sherlock was dancing, and he was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen.

_Let me love you_

_All night long to a slow beat_

_Singing our song._

The music kept playing, a sensual beat that was driving John insane.

“Man, stop drooling and just go over!” Bill exclaimed, exasperated.

“C’mon, John,” Molly encouraged, pushing him off the chair. Mike laughed, a bit tipsy.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jeez.”

Sighing, John squared his shoulders and walked to where Sherlock was swaying his hips sensually, his sweaty curls stuck to his forehead.

“May I have this dance?” John asked, and Sherlock, breathless, put his arm around John’s neck and kept on dancing.

_Gonna dance all night and maybe_

_I'm gonna tell you how I've been feeling lately_

_“Boy, you make me wild and crazy_

_Take me home, take me home, now the time is right.”_

“Gonna tell you a secret,” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear, and John actually _shivered_ , “I love dancing. Always loved it.”

“And you dance pretty well, too,” John answered, a tad out of breath and more than a bit aroused.

_Why is the rhythm always making me high?_

_It's harder to resist you_

_You get stuck in my mind._

And John could resist no longer.

“Can I…?” He mouthed, his thumb travelling upwards to rest on Sherlock’s plump bottom lip.

Sherlock’s pupils were blown wide, his mouth parted, his expression slack.

“Please,” John whispered, leaning up on his tip toes, “You’re so beautiful…”

And Sherlock ducked and met his lips.

It was an earthquake.

It changed John’s perception of life.

It was pure, utter _magic_.

Sherlock’s lips moved in sync with his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Perfect.

And when John darted out his tongue, Sherlock gladly accepted it, parting his lips and letting his own tongue dance with John’s.

John’s hands travelled down Sherlock’s body, making the boy shiver, and ended on his bum. _God_ how John had wanted to knead that arse. It was plump and firm, and just… bloody perfect.

He could feel Sherlock’s finger’s threading in his short hair, and it was so beautiful John wanted to cry.

So many times he had imagined kissing Sherlock bloody Holmes, but all his dreams faded in front of the reality.

This kiss was different from every kiss in John’s life. It made his chest ache in ways he didn’t fully comprehend, his eyes prickle awkwardly.

Eventually, they had to part to breathe, and stared at each other (mussed hair, bruised lips, stubble burns on cheeks, flushed faces) before they started giggling.

“Stop giggling, it’s a serious moment!” John said in between fits of giggles, making Sherlock just laugh harder.

But they giggled anyway, until they were breathless with laughter and John had to swipe tears off his face.

 

\---

 

“John,” Mike called, and John reluctantly stopped snogging Sherlock thoroughly to turn and glare at his roommate.

“Yes?”

Mike patted John on the shoulder. “Dropped by to tell you I’m sleeping on Molly’s couch tonight. Just a heads up.”

“Th-thanks Mike,” John replied, then turned back to Sherlock, searching his lips with his.

They had barely been doing anything else but this for the last half an hour. Kissing, kissing and kissing.

It was so bloody _addictive_. John thought he could never breathe properly again if not with Sherlock’s mouth attached to his.

_Baby, would you like_

_To spend the night,_

_The whole night?_     

“Do You Mind?” by the XX starts playing, and John listened distractedly to the lyrics as Sherlock’s lips moved underneath his.

_Would you mind if I take you home with me_

_Where no one can see_

_So don't be shy._

“Hey babe,” John murmured, the endearment slipping so easily out of his mouth it’s almost second nature, “Would you mind?”

Sherlock immediately got it. “To come to your house?”

John scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I mean, it’s nothing like _your_ house, but there’s no one in, and I-”

“Shh,” Sherlock shushed him, attaching his lips to John’s, “Yes. Take me home.”

John smiled against Sherlock’s lips, and nodded slowly.

_When we touch_

_I can't get enough_

_Falling for you_

_And maybe_

_Would you like to make love tonight_

_The whole night?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes - John asks Victor if he is related to Sherlock. He is just that desperate. 
> 
> See you next chapter for the smut! Eheheh ;)


	4. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of this story!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed this story so far, thank you!! 
> 
> Enjoy! xx
> 
>  **TW for recreational drugs use** (hope you're happy anna, I did my best!  <3)

“I know it’s not much,” John murmured awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. After seeing Sherlock’s house, he was suddenly hyperaware of how _less_ his own was.

They had arrived to the flat he shared with Mike, in Baker Street, and Sherlock was inspecting it with care, without any concept of privacy.

“It’s lovely,” Sherlock declared eventually, after a thorough search of the whole flat.

John smiled softly at him, and strode over to take his hand.

“ _You_ are lovely,” John murmured, and leaned up to catch Sherlock’s lips.

He couldn’t believe he was allowed to do this now. Just… couldn’t. After on entire month of self-restraint… Wait.

“Sherlock,” John drew back, and stared into Sherlock’s glossy eyes. “Why wouldn’t you let me kiss you for all this time?”

Sherlock blushed terribly, and fixed his glasses on his nose. He bit on his lower lip.

“Promise not to mock?” He asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but John.

John interlaced their fingers together. “Promise.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and lowered his eyes, staring at John’s feet.

“Well, you seemed so confident, with your pick-up lines and all, I thought I was just another prey for you. I wanted to be more than a one-night-stand.”

 John softened. He cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands, and kissed him slowly.

“You were never a one-night-stand.”

John felt Sherlock tremble and shiver all over, and loved him even more.

“Bedroom, now, please,” Sherlock begged, lips brushing against John’s. John felt electricity run down his spine, his blood rushing south.

“This way,” he whispered, a tad breathless.

He took Sherlock by the hand, lacing their fingers together, and led him to the downstairs bedroom.

He tried not to focus on all that Sherlock might notice about his room – the half eaten sandwich on his desk, the unmade bed, the ‘legalize weed’ sticker on his bedpost.

Too aroused to even care though, he grabbed Sherlock by the lapels of his ridiculous, billowing coat and snogged him thoroughly.

Sherlock replied in earnest, without noticing that John was backing, till Sherlock’s knees hit the bed. The boy toppled over, ending sat on the mattress, and John straddled his waist, sitting in his lap.

“Can I…?” John asked, taking Sherlock’s glasses in his hands. Sherlock slowly nodded, and John removed the glasses and placed them on the bedside table.

John smiled at him, and wound his arms around his neck, touching their noses together.

“Are you-”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna say!” John complained, an amused smile on his thin lips.

“You were gonna ask me if I’m clean and the answer is yes, I am.”

John shook his head. Sherlock was so darn _clever_.

“Amazing,” he murmured, leaning with his forehead against Sherlock’s. “Well I’m clean too.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock huffed, breathing heavy, eyes boring into John’s, lust and affection pouring through them.

John ducked and captured that beautiful creature’s lips, kissing him with intensity, tongues dancing together in a sweet mingle.

When kissing became _too much_ , for John’s head was spinning and his erection was aching, John separated from Sherlock, and made the boys lie down, still straddling his narrow hips.

When Sherlock’s back hit the mattress, John braced himself atop him, and started rolling his hips over Sherlock’s crotch.

Sherlock was _vocal_.

They weren’t even naked, and Sherlock was already moaning and emitting a series of almost _virginal_ sounds.

Wait.

“Sherlock… You’re not…?”

Sherlock huffed, “No, I’m not a virgin, I’m just… If you want I can stop.”

“No no no, let me hear you babe,” John pleaded, and ground down with his hips.

Sherlock moaned loudly, hands fisting the sheets.

“Babe? You’re gorgeous, okay? But I need less clothes on,” John babbled, his fingers at the hem of Sherlock’s shirt.

“Go ahead,” Sherlock allowed, and John sighed in relief, tugging the shirt off Sherlock.

Christ.

His nipples were hart and erect, red blotches were marring his otherwise pearl-white skin. His abdomen was taut and lean, his chest almost hairless.

Then John unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers, and Sherlock kicked the off, revealing he wasn’t wearing any underwear. _Holy mother of Christ_ , John was on the verge of an aneurysm.

Sherlock’s cock, not very thick nor long, was standing proudly against his belly, already leaking pre-come.

“Jesus, you’re perfect,” John moaned, his cock twitching, painfully restrained by his boxer briefs.

“John, John I need to see you,” Sherlock begged, and John made a quick work of divesting himself, finding himself naked, his tanned skin against Sherlock’s paler one.

Sherlock ran his hands on John’s pectorals, to then settle on his shoulders.

“Speaking of perfection,” he breathed, before they were kissing again, slowly, languidly this time. Their twin erections sliding together, their hips rolling sensually, John’s hands fisted in the sheets beside the other boy’s head, Sherlock’s running through John’s hair.

John broke off, and stared at Sherlock right in the eye.

“What would you like to do?” John mouthed against Sherlock’s jaw, running his lips on the underside of Sherlock’s neck and up again.

Sherlock’s skin erupted in goose bumps, and the boy shivered.

“I… I want- I _need_ you inside of me.”

John didn’t need to be repeated twice, and groaned ferociously, an almost animal-like sound that came from somewhere deep within him.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Sherlock,” John growled, the periphery of his vision blurred, his thoughts a loop of “fuck him into the mattress.”

He kissed down Sherlock’s throat, till his sternum, but didn’t stop there, and kept going, crawling down Sherlock’s body, suckling on his turgid nipples, blowing a playful raspberry on his belly, kissing the tip of his cock.

Sherlock’s legs trembled, and John took him by his thighs and wrapped them around his shoulders. He could feel Sherlock’s weight around his neck, his warmth surrounding him, and it was beautiful.

Slowly, he leaned down and licked at Sherlock’s crack. Sherlock whimpered pathetically and writhed on the bed.

Grinning smugly, John parted Sherlock’s arse cheeks with his palms, and darted his tongue out to lick at his arsehole.

“Aah-ah!” Sherlock exclaimed, slamming one hand flat on the mattress. “Fuck.”

Pretty chuffed, John licked at his entrance again, and then, when Sherlock’s hole was a bit looser, he started to fuck the librarian with his tongue.

And Sherlock _went_. _Mad_.

Howling and crying and begging and growling and moaning.

It was the sexiest, hottest thing John had ever witnessed.

“Holy Mother of Christ, Sherlock Holmes what you do to me…” John babbled, saliva dripping from his chin, jaw muscles aching for how much he was working Sherlock’s hole open.

“John, I need, I need… John please, please fuck me, John _fuck. Me._ ”

Dirty talk. _That_ was one of John’s turns on.

Somehow Sherlock sensed this (the man was so bloody _smart_ , goddammit), and after a slight pause, he grinned down at John, pupils blown wide, and said, “Need… Your big cock inside of me, give it to me all, please…”

“You sly bastard,” John growled, biting down on Sherlock’s inner thigh.

Sherlock giggled, and John went along.

Then he leaned over and grabbed the bottle of lube that was shoved inside the top drawer of his bedside table and uncapped it.

“May I have the honour, sir?” He joked, and Sherlock laughed quietly.

“Please,” he smiled, and John grinned back, coating three fingers in lube.

Slowly, trying as hard as he could not to hurt Sherlock, John shoved the first digit inside him. Knuckle by knuckle, until it was all the way inside.

“M-more,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

John nodded, licking his lips. He took out his index fingers and went back inside with two, slowly, scissoring softly Sherlock open.

Sherlock hissed, clearly uncomfortable.

“Sorry love, am I hurting you?” John asked, furrowing his brow.

Sherlock shook his head, his wild curls dancing like a halo around his face.

“Now relax,” John mouthed against Sherlock’s cheek, when he felt Sherlock’s muscles tighten around his fingers.

Only when Sherlock was breathing evenly again and his muscles were loose, John shoved his fingers a bit further inside, and crooked them, looking for… there it is!

“ _FUCK!_ ” Sherlock cried, when John brushed against his prostate.

John smiled against Sherlock’s neck, and took his fingers out to add a third.

When Sherlock was panting, his curls stuck to his forehead, fucking himself on John’s finger, only then John removed all his digits and squirted more lube on his hand.

Then he stroked his cock, relishing in the feeling, taking in Sherlock’s debauched expression, his pretty lips parted, his-

Shit.

John closed his index and thumb around his cock, biting down on his lower lip.

“Did you just stopped yourself from coming?” Sherlock questioned.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” John huffed, then braced himself atop Sherlock and guided his cock to Sherlock’s entrance.

“Ready?” He asked, for he knew he was thick and long, and most likely would have hurt Sherlock, albeit only initially.

Sherlock nodded, wrapping his legs around John’s wait, his arms around John’s neck.

“Please.”

Chewing on his lower lip, John pushed inside of Sherlock, ever so slowly, watching Sherlock grimaced underneath him.

It took him a while to get all the way inside, but when he was seated in, _god_ it was magnificent.

“C-can I move?” He pleaded, voice bordering on desperation.

Sherlock clenched around him and nodded, tightening his grip around John’s hips.

And John moved.

He rolled his hips, sliding in and out of Sherlock, with a slow, maddening pace that had Sherlock moan shamelessly on the mattress beneath him.

It was the best sex of John’s life.

Sherlock was so receptive, and sensitive, and vocal, and just… _fit_ with John in a way any past lover, male or female, had.

It was so glorious, the build up to the orgasm so perfect, that John would have wanted it to last forever.

But eventually Sherlock started begging for John to finish him off, and John wrapped his hand around the boy’s cock, pumping in time with his thrusts, now more erratic and fast.

Sherlock came first, coating John’s finger in warm, white liquid.

And… Shit, Sherlock’s face when he orgasmed. It was so, _so much_ , that that only pushed John over the edge.

He came in a blinding wave of pleasure, that erupted from the bottom of his spine, and like electricity ran to his crotch.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” was everything John managed to say, when he could see again.

Sherlock wouldn’t let him go, his eyes closed, his mouth shaped in a pink ‘o’, his curls stuck to his forehead, darker than usual thanks to how much Sherlock had sweated.

“You can say that again,” Sherlock eventually murmured, unwinding his arms and legs from John’s shoulders and waist.

John slipped out of Sherlock and fell with his back on the mattress, and sneaked his hand down to lace his fingers with Sherlock.

“Do you smoke?” John suddenly asked Sherlock.

This epic orgasm had made him want to smoke some weed.

Sherlock blinked at him. “You saw me smoking cigarettes, so I think you are referring to marijuana?”

John grinned at Sherlock and nodded.

“Always wanted to try, never had a chance though,” Sherlock said, shrugging with one shoulder.

“Well,” John exclaimed, getting up and walking to his chest of drawers, “I _love_ to smoke after a good orgasm. Would it bother you?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Not at all.”

John took his pot out of the drawer and brought it over to the bed. Sherlock watched, enthralled, as John grinded the green substance and then rolled it with his tobacco.

Once the joint was finished, John offered it to Sherlock.

“First drag?” John offered, but Sherlock shook his head.

“Maybe next time, thanks.”

“You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“Yeah! I just… I want to be less tired when I try for the first time.”

“Fair enough,” John conceded, and lit the joint.

He lay on his back, head propped on the headboard, and held hands with Sherlock again. He could see with the corner of his eyes Sherlock staring at him, his lips parted.

John knew he was attractive.

He knew Sherlock was staring at his rugby-sculpted pectorals going up and down as he inhaled the smoke. He knew that Sherlock was staring at his cheeks hollowing, at his lips shaping in a pink ‘o’ when he blew out the smoke. That he was staring at the smoke, sensually dancing around them, and so John smirked.

He turned his head, to find Sherlock, mesmerised.

“Would you like to try a thing?”

Sherlock nodded, enthralled.

John sat up and Sherlock imitated him. Then John put the joint between his lips, and leaned with his forehead against Sherlock.

Then he cupped the joint, and inhaled. When he blew out the smoke, Sherlock immediately breathed it in, his pupils dilating.

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock whispered, and John giggled.

“Never chainsmoked?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Again,” he demanded.

John laughed, and did it again.

 

****

 

_Three Months Later_

 

“Shh,” John said, but he wasn’t able to stop giggling, not when Sherlock’s hands were everywhere, his mouth on his neck, and they were _in the fucking library_.

“Be silent,” John pleaded, Sherlock’s aborted moans as he dry humped against John way too loudly.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Sherlock ground out, his erection digging into John’s hip.

“This is the third time we have sex in the library, don’t you a minimum of self-restraint?”

“Not when it comes to you,” Sherlock whispered against John’s throat, and John almost blushed. Like a fucking schoolgirl.

“I love you,” he said.

_Fuck._

Sherlock froze, and lifted his head, his eyes wide.

“You what?”

John thought it was useless now come up with an excuse, like “I call you,” or something like that.

He sighed. “I love you.”

Sherlock gasped, and John wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

“Loveyoutoo,” Sherlock mumbled, his lips attached to John’s forehead.

John smiled, and thought that his pick-up lines had really got him far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for every kudos and comment and bookmark and subscription, they mean the world to me!
> 
> If you'd like to commission a fic too, just hit me up @[girljohn](http://girljohn.tumblr.com/) and check my [commission fees](http://girljohn.tumblr.com/post/143057593620/hello-everyone-im-a-trans-mentally-ill-kid-who).

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to commission a fic too, just hit me up @[astralcasper](http://astralcasper.tumblr.com/).


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